Date: Sun, 15 Jul 2012 09:22:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford
Subject: OLIVER'S ADVENTURES Chapter 6 (More Frankie) by Donny Mumford
OLIVER'S ADVENTURES
Chapter 6 (More Frankie)
by Donny Mumford
Frankie's gonna get married? What the fuck? And his bride is going to be
that surprisingly unattractive girl who's much bigger than him? Jesus!
Life's weird sometimes, but I guess I'm jealous, as well as
mystified. Laying in bed, unable to sleep, and wondering if I should count
sheep? What's that all about anyway? That sheep counting thing, I mean.
I'm in a bad mood because I can't even get a boner to play with while I'm
dealing with this insomnia. All I can think about is that Darleen
person. That anchovy Darleen, who needs to take a very long hike because
Frankie really wants me, not the anchovy; even though he maybe doesn't
realize it yet. In spite of my grumpy mood I have to chuckle thinking back
to that day on the University Of Pennsylvania campus, having coffee with
the two Barrys and their friend, Andy, the likable hick. That's the first
time I heard a girl referred to as anchovy. Yuck, the smell of old
anchovies! I gotta get some sleep, which I eventually manage to do. When I
open my eyes the next morning the motivation and eagerness for work that I
normally have isn't present. My first thought is, 'Frankie has a
girlfriend'. What a horrible thought to have first thing in the morning
and it puts me off my game. I go through my regular morning rituals as
best I can, and then off to work I go just like normal, except nothing's
normal. For starters, the Dunkin Donut's coffee doesn't taste right, and
cars cut in front of me without signaling, and every woman driver I see has
a cell phone plastered to her ear. Don't get me started on that! I'll just
bet that fat Darleen has her cell phone up to her ear with one hand as she
shoves donuts down her fat throat with the other, and I'll bet she steers
the car with her fat knees. Hell, she probably drives a pickup to carry
all the donuts she eats every day. Oh God, I definitely need to chill
out...
Trying to calm down doesn't work because I remember how awkward yesterday
afternoon was when Frankie told me about Darleen, and then he said, 'I can
still be his boyfriend'. What's he mean by that? I told him that he
shouldn't waste his time worrying about me; he should be concentrating on
that little woman of his. I may have sounded a bit snippy though because
Frankie got a hurt look on his face and when he tried to playfully muss my
hair I pushed his hand away and stalked off to take a leak. I was pouting,
but who could blame me?! We didn't talk much after that and we even
passed-up the afternoon spit swapping. Before Frankie left for the day he
came over to where I was filling out my time-card, and said, "Don't be mad,
Oliver. You're my best bud ever. How can I get through the day when my
best bud is mad at me?" He'd even asked me to lend him some of my spit for
his ride home saying his throat was wicked dry. Gave me his hot smile when
he asked for it too, but I continued to pout. I told him I didn't have any
extra spit. What a jackass I can be, but I've never experienced being
jealous before and I've discovered it really hurts. How can life go from
being so great to being so shitty so fast?
When I get to work and park my cool Mini Cooper convertible, an older guy
dressed in a suit was just getting out of his generic Chevrolet and he
goes, "Hey, son, that car is so cool. I'll bet you're having fun with
that." He's a nice friendly guy, who waved at an older woman and they
walked in the main entrance together before I got a chance to respond. I
stare after the man thinking, 'He's right, I should be enjoying
myself'. Yeah, I should be loving life, and that's exactly what I'd been
doing before that overweight piece of anchovy...... A brief horn toot
interrupts my nasty little thought and I look behind me and there's Frankie
pulling into a parking spot driving his shitbox Toyota. As usual Frankie
has a real friendly expression on his cute face and I can't help but stare
at him. His red hair's standing straight up like he's trained it to do and
my dick moves on it's own in my jockey shorts as I bite lightly on my lower
lip. It's a beautiful morning with the sun reflecting off Frankie's round
eyeglasses and then, when he smiles at me, the sun shines off his shiny
white teeth too. He has the most wonderful smile and I melt inside a
little. He hustles over like he wants to tell me something. "Hi, Oliver,"
and then he gives me my morning hug and puts his arm around my neck as we
walked towards the rear entrance of the building. Frankie smells so good
and apparently he's pretending nothing's different from any other morning
as he begins talking in his usual excited manner, "Oh fuck, Oliver, wait
till I tell you what Rocky said, he's so fucking funny. I saw him in the
parking lot last night and he wanted to borrow ten dollars for gas. I give
it to him asking him why he didn't use his credit card and he tells me his
credit card was stolen three months ago. I'm like, 'Didn't you report it?'
and Rocky says he didn't want to do that because the thief is charging less
on the card each month than his wife was charging." Frankie starts
laughing and I can't help but smile too.
I sure liked the feel of the side of his body pressed against mine as we're
rubbing together walking towards the door. Frankie embellished his story a
little, "You know how Rocky says everything in that monotone voice. I
always think he's telling me something serious and it turns out to be a
joke. Ya know what I mean, don't ya Oliver?" Then he hugs me against his
great, tight, skinny body and laughs some more. I laugh too. It hasn't
taken Frankie long to made me feel better and I need to pull my T-shirt out
to cover my boner. Nice to have my boner back. Frankie's hair has grown
out quite a bit since his fade haircut and in the bright sunshine his hair
is very bright red and so clean and shiny looking I can't resist running my
fingers through it as he looks me in in the eyes with such a sweet
expression on his face; I can't stay mad at him. Hell, I love him. We go
right to the cafe where Frankie lights two cigarettes and gives me one, the
filter damp with his awesome spit. His fingers brush mine when he passes
me the cigarette and I go, "Gulp" and fake a cough as I grope my crotch.
Jesus, do I have it bad for Frankie. I'm thinking, 'I may have to kill
Darleen', as Frankie's blue eyes behind those Harry potter glasses sparkle
and shine. His skin is flawless and always looks wicked clean and new. I
want to put my lips on his forehead again and do that stupid smoke in his
hair trick, and I want to put my face against Frankie's face and just hold
onto his head and wrap both my arms around his neck. In years past I felt
someone needs to look after me, usually my big brother, Christian, but
right now I'm feeling like I should be looking out for Frankie, protect him
from Darleen.
We talk about the annual company picnic coming up this Saturday. In
hindsight I figure the picnic's the reason Frankie told me about his
over-weight, extra large-nosed, cow-pie faced girlfriend. He's not the
only one with a girlfriend though and i tell Frankie, in an off hand way,
that I'd be bringing my girlfriend too. This produces a surprised look on
his face. Only difference between my reaction to Frankie's girlfriend, and
Frankie's reaction to mine, is that Frankie's happy for me and says
Pattie's one lucky girl to have me for a boyfriend. He doesn't appear to
hate Pattie like I hate Darleen. Then Frankie asks if I'd swap some spit
with him in the back of the truck and I get a big smile on my face nodding
my head 'yes'. Oh my, is Frankie ever sexy today. After a minute or so
our cigarette breath is replaced by our regular saliva and does Frankie
ever have the sweetest smelling and sweetest tasting saliva! We take turns
sucking each other's tongue and upper lip. We French kiss and rub our
noses together, back and forth, back and forth, and spread our saliva over
each other's face. Today Frankie lets me hug his body against mine and I
can feel his pole-hard boner rubbing against mine as we hump into each
other's crotch. For the first time I hear Frankie moan as he hugs me back
and then he seems excited as he sucks and licks on my neck right under my
jaw just below my ear. I hold my head back a little so he has full access.
Eat your heart out Darleen, you don't have a chance. I drip precum in my
jockey shorts and would have followed that up by cuming hard in another
minute except we hear Rocky calling out for us. "Are you two goofing-off
again? Where the fuck are ya?" Startled, we pull apart breathing fast and
deep. Frankie uses the palm of his hand to wipe my face and I do the same
to him; oh my God I love him so much. Then we both use the back of our
wrist and forearms to wipe over our faces again, trying to get the spit
off. We come out of the truck bed together, carrying the heaviest box on
the truck. Hopefully Rocky will think that's why we have red faces and
heavy breathing. "Just wanted to make sure you guys were on the fucking
job, and for Christ sake use the dolly for those real heavy boxes. You
boys are too small to lift shit that heavy. God damn, that's all I need, a
workman's comp suit." Rocky says all this in that unique tone of voice he
uses, talking slow like he has all day and as if what he says isn't
important anyhow. His choice of urgent words is always contradicted by the
manner he speaks them. It's weird and funny at the same time. Frankie and
me usually have our faces scrunched up in concentration trying to decipher
Rocky's true message.
Rocky fumbles around trying to find something in his pockets and finally
comes up with the nub of a pencil. He says, "I got my check list right
here for the barbecue picnic. You're both going, right?" We go, "Yeah, and
we're bringing dates." Rocky says two studs like us would certainly be
bringing dates. He scratches something on the list he has, then tells us
to go fuck ourselves and off he goes. We laugh at that and then Frankie
and I make faces at each other like, 'that was a little too close, dude.
Rocky almost caught us swapping spit'. I say, "Jesus, when was the last
time Rocky was on the loading dock this early?" Frankie said, "Ahhh, how
about, never." He gooses me and we get started with the unloading. I
taste Frankie all morning and yearn so much to be naked with him sometime
when we're making-out, but with him getting married and all; well, I need
to believe making out naked with Frankie might be a long shot. On the
other hand, his make-out and spit swapping this morning had definitely
risen to another level, and thinking about it now, that development
surprises me. Maybe Frankie doesn't want to lose me as a boyfriend for
real, or maybe I'm just confused again. After work I call Pattie and she's
excited about the barbecue so my date for the picnic is all set. Dad and
mom won't be at the picnic because they'll be out of town that weekend
attending a wedding and they don't seem all that disappointed about missing
the picnic.
Next day at work, Frankie and me maintain the increased intensity
established for our kissing and sucking and I come very close to blowing a
load in my pants. The bodily contact with Frankie increases our level of
involvement and has me on the edge of spunking all the time. I jack-off in
the men's room a couple of times during the week to relieve the pressure;
it's so much fun swapping spit with Frankie that I'm in a dreamy mood most
of the day. Saturday morning arrives and my parents take off for their
over-night trip. Waving goodbye to them I think of all the support they've
given me over the years and get a warm glow in my heart for them. Putting
the top down on the Mini, I drive over to pick-up Pattie thinking how
fortunate I am to have such caring parents. At Pattie's house her
seventeen year old brother, Myers, answers the door and he's a hot one
alright. This is the first time I've seen him since that cock teasing
routine he pulled on me when I ran into him here a few weeks back. I can't
pinpoint the main reason I think he's so sexy, but he is. He's shorter
than me and a little on the chunky side. He has that inexplicable arrogant
air about him with his seemingly defiant eye to eye contact. Maybe that's
it, his arrogance. Or maybe it's those amazingly green eyes of his, and
that smirk he usually has on those puffy pink lips. Or maybe he's sexy
because of those puffy lips. And, maybe another reason I think he's sexy is
that blond, spiked haircut of his, and the hint of a blond mustache on his
top lip. Both times I've seen him he's had a couple of zits on his
forehead and for some reason they looked sexy too. They're just red
blemishes, not the horrid white head type zits. With a hot looking brother
like Myers, I gotta wonder why Pattie isn't hotter looking herself,
although she is cute for a girl.
Looking at Myers a couple of seconds, I need to take a deep breath and his
smirk fades into a phony smile, showing off a lot more of the whitest teeth
and biggest dimples imaginable. He's different alright, and definitely
sexy. I have this strong urge to rub my finger in those skimpy blond hairs
on his upper lip. "What's up, Dude?" he goes, then, "I forget your name,"
Myers dismissively mumbles at me. I tell him my name again and he stands
too close to me when he tells me to come in. Trying to squeeze by him I
can feel a little spit spray from his mouth as he asks, "Ya getting
anything off my sister? She putting out for you yet?" I mutter, "What?
Hey, no! Don't be crude." Myers leans into me sightly so that his crotch
is against my thigh, and as I gulp, he whispers, " Bet you aren't even
interested in getting in her pants, are you, Oliver?" His face an inch from
mine when he says that and I would have backed away except for the
expensive looking floor lamp that's right behind me. Myers has his hands
on my waist and even though he's three inches shorter than me I can smell
his breath. It smells like apple juice. "Don't ya shake hands when you
greet someone, Oliver?" "Huh? Oh, yeah, nice to see ya, Myers", and I hold
my hand out. Myers takes hold of it and squeezes so hard it bends me over
and I'm going, "Ow, oh man, that hurts." Myers doesn't respond to that,
just casually pulls me over to their big sofa and roughly bumps into my
right hip with his big bubble-butt ass making me clumsily sit up on the arm
of the sofa with my feet off the floor. "You're a bit of a pussy, aren't
you Oliver?" And with that Myers pushes me again and I end-up laying full
out on the sofa on my back with Myers still squeezing my hand too tightly,
his other hand comes to rest on my belly, under my Polo shirt close to my
dick.
Pattie comes to the rescue, saying, "What the hell?" then chuckles, adding,
"Oliver, you nut. Why are you laying down?" Myers says, "I'll help him,
sis," then adds, with a chuckle, "He's kind of a wuss, isn't he?" Pattie
goes, "No he's not!". I try sitting up and Myers, with his back blocking
Pattie's view, pushes his hand right under the waistband of my jockey
underpants and gropes my balls. I'm sweating by now as our faces rub
together. Myers, giggling quietly, gives my nuts a gentle squeeze. By now
he has his other hand in my back pocket grabbing and re-grabbing my butt
cheek. Embarrassingly, my steel-shafted boner is poking up the front of my
cargo shorts. Myers plays with my pole a little as we stare into each
others eyes. Taking little, fast breaths, more like panting actually, I get
kind of a pleading look on my face which is still hidden from Pattie's
view. This whole deal took ten seconds or less. Myers adopts a know-it-all
smirk on his face as he takes pity on me and lets go of my nuts, pulling
his hand out of my shorts and I watch one of my pubic hairs float off his
hand and land on the seat cushion next to me as Myers casually puts his
fingers up to his nose for a sniff. Then, in a very awkward maneuver, he
pulls me up using the hand that was in my back pocket, grabbing a handful
of my ass in the process. Pattie's laughing, explaining to me how Myers is
so funny and, "He's really strong, don't ya think, Oliver?" Getting pulled
up like that required that I hold onto Myers in what amounts to a hug, our
faces rubbing together again, and he drags his tongue across my chin just
below my bottom lip. Myers whispers so low I'm not sure I heard him
correctly, "You'll come to pick me up for a date one of these days. Won't
ya, fairy boy?" I ask, "What was that?" with me on my feet now. Myers, in
a normal tone of voice says to me, "You heard me." Pattie goes, "Damnit,
Oliver, you're shirt is all wrinkled. Just look at you. Tuck in your
shirt. I swear, it's just like you guys to get in a wrestling match and
with you here to take me on a date, Oliver, you bad, bad boy you. Can we go
now, hot stuff?" As she's saying all that she tries straightening out my
shirt and tucking it in as I'm turning this way and that trying to hide my
boner. Myers's shaking his head, muttering, "What a couple of losers."
I tell Pattie I'm more than ready to go, but even as I say it, I can't help
staring over at Myers, thinking, 'He really turns me on'. He'd turned me
on a little that first time I met him too, but this time I have to admit,
he's really hot. Myers smirks and then, without saying it out loud, goes,
"Fag". Why do I get aroused when someone's bullying me? Damn! Pattie leads
us out the door with me following her closely. Myers, behind me, takes the
opportunity to put his hand between my butt cheeks and hold onto my nuts
for just a second and I need to stop until he lets go,as he whispers,
"Okay, you can go now." Then, in a loud cheery voice, he says, "Bye Oliver
and Pattie, have a great time." I still have my boner. Pattie and me are
driving along toward the picnic park when she goes into this long, detailed
description of her New York City shopping spree for college clothes. I use
the time to try figuring out what there is about me, what signals am I
giving out, that attracts these bully types. Bullies, yes, but they also,
for some reason, have a strong magnetism for me. I'm attracted to them to
some degree and it's both scary and exciting at the same time. Oh shit,
someone I hadn't thought of for quite some time pops into my mind. It's my
next door neighbor, twenty year old Edward. He's a bit of a bully too.
Damn, it occurs to me that I'd had a dream about Edward and me a few weeks
ago. It was probably brought on by my encounter with him at the cookout
the day I got back from Wildwood. A week or so after that he invaded my
sleep and crap on that. In the dream Edward and me were both naked, he had
me wrapped in his arms and legs with my back against his chest. He was
laying on his back, his long, hard cock between my legs. In my dream it was
like I could feel that boner of his humping up and down between my hairless
thighs, pushing aside my nuts with each thrust and, of course, it's
impossible not to notice all of Edward's body hair. In my dream the top of
my head was just touching Edward's chin as I lay there on his chest with my
ass just below his belly button; I was as docile as it's possible to
be. Edwards' body hair felt so soft on my back, on my bare ass, and on the
back of my legs. That soft feeling made me look down my naked body and
realize that almost all of me was hidden in that unreal amount of
pubic-type body hair. Everything gets very much exaggerated in dreams, it
seems. My boner was sticking straight up in this dream and I felt extreme
ecstasy as Edward continued to pump his slippery, long, hard boner up and
down between my thighs. Squeezing my legs tightly together in the
realistic dream, Edward purred quietly as he was stroking my boner with his
lubricated fist and I was grunting in pleasure with each stroke. We shot
off together and in my dream-world I got covered in both our cum loads.
Edward whispering words to me in his purring voice; words I couldn't make
out in the dream. It seemed so fucking real I get a chill down my back
recalling it now. When I woke out of that dream my own cum was on my
stomach and running down my fist as I continued stroking my cock. Weird,
doesn't cover it.
I'd forgotten all about that dream until right now. Thinking about it
causes that chill I mentioned to run down my back as another picture
flashes through my brain. A seemingly real snap-shot of Edward from some
years ago when he had that short buzz haircut. In the snap-shot we're both
naked, him laying on that old cot in our garage back then. I was much
younger too, hugging him as we lay stomach to stomach. Edward had his hand
under me, between our bellies, stroking my cock with tight, fast strokes.
What a scary thing to imagine. Wonder if it really happened and I wish I
knew someone I could talk to about this; it couldn't ever have happened,
could it? I mean, without me remembering it? Then I hear, "Are you
listening to me at all, Oliver?" Pattie was using her pretend pissed-off
voice as I make the turn off the highway onto the narrow road of the picnic
grounds. It snaps me out of my daydreaming. "You bet, Pattie. Your
clothes sound kewl for college." "I've been talking about my car for the
last five minutes, Oliver." "Oh, yeah. That's what I meant, your car
sounds cool." I adjust the uncomfortable position my boner is in, and when
did I get this latest boner anyway? Myers' induced boner went down when I
first got back in the Mini... hmmm? All thoughts are pushed aside now
though as I pull into the Duck Pond Picnic Area and follow the signs up the
long driveway to the parking lot. This park is only about a fifteen
minutes drive from my house. Convenient for me, but Frankie has about a
forty-five minute drive to get here from where he lives. Pattie and I
wander over to an area designated for my insurance company's use. There
will be as many as four hundred people at the picnic and caterers are
already getting charcoal fires started at eleven o'clock in the morning.
We get cold drinks and begin walking around trying to spot someone
familiar.
Mr Brittle, who's wearing a sports coat and a bow tie, waves us over, and
says, "Good morning, Frankie" and then he gives a friendly nod of the head
to Pattie. He directs us to the tables assigned to the loading-dock,
mailroom, and stock room employees. I like that he got me mixed-up with
Frankie. Pattie asks me, "Who's Frankie and who wears a sport coat to a
barbecue?" I spot Rocky with a group of guys and girls around him. Big
laughs break-out and I know Rocky's entertaining the troops. When I get
Rocky's attention I introduce him to Pattie and Rocky says, "Pleased to
meet ya, Paula. Sorry to say my wife couldn't make it. Saturdays she has
her yodeling lesson." I burst out with a laugh and Pattie looks confused.
"Yodeling?", she asks. Some more of Rocky's guys show up and then Frankie.
I spot his red hair a hundred yards away as he's asking Mr Brittle
something, probably directions, and then Frankie looks up, directly at me.
I watch him walking quickly towards us, leaving the large female he's with
in the dust. As he get closer I see he'd gotten another fade haircut that
morning and his hair looks so crisp and new a shiver runs through me. He's
wearing little round, blue reflector prescription sunglasses. He comes
right up and hugs me like we do every morning. To me he looks cooler than
anybody I've ever seen in my life. He's so graceful with everything,
gliding to me for our embrace. When we hug, I hear someone in the group
across from us say, "What the fuck?....."
My cock is so hard by the time Frankie's done with our hug and the wet kiss
on my neck that I can't help but let out a gasp. Quickly pulling my Polo
shirttails out to hide the throbbing, Frankie-induced boner, I'm thinking,
'Why I ever bother to tuck a shirt in when Frankie's around is a mystery to
me'. The large female Frankie left behind is of course Darleen. She
finally makes it to where we're standing and storms over, temporarily
blocking out the sun. I stare at this large girl and realized my premise
that maybe it's just her pictures that isn't flattering is wrong. The
pictures of her were bad for sure, but she looks worse in person. Thinking
to myself, 'Be nice, what the hell, looks aren't everything. She's probably
the nicest person I'll ever meet. Give her a chance.' That's what I
thought, but I was wrong there too. I'd just finished introducing Pattie
to Frankie and Frankie to Pattie when Darleen arrived huffing and puffing,
out of breath from the relatively short walk from the parking lot. She
ignores the niceties and starts right in on Frankie, "Don't you ever leave
me behind like that again, Frank. You hear me, mister? We are a 'couple'
and couples arrive together. You know very well that the gals in my family
tend to be on the big side and we can't run marathons, it's in our genes to
be big gals." Darleen looks around at the people standing in our small
group, most of us with our mouths hanging open, hardly believing her act.
She explains further, "We're all small eaters in my family, but we gain
weight easily and it's unhealthy for us to be running around like young
children, especially in this heat. What's his big rush to get up here
anyway, he sees you people every day." When she stops to take a breath
Frankie jumps in and is very contrite and admits he'd been rude to leave
her behind like that and he's sorry. Then Frankie adds, "But, Darleen, this
is my best bud, Oliver, who I've told you so much about". Frankie has his
hand open, palm up, indicating that here I am, the wonderful Oliver,
apparently thinking Darleen would be excited about meeting me. Smiling as
hard as I can at Darleen, Frankie puts his arm across my shoulders and does
a formal introduction of me and then Pattie to Darleen. Then he introduced
the rest of the group to her. Darleen puts on an insincere looking smile
and, completely ignoring the introductions, Darleen bizarrely, says,
"Please excuse Frank, people. My mother and I are working on his manners.
No doubt it made you all feel very uncomfortable seeing him leave me behind
like that, but don't let it upset you too much because we're making
progress with him, although it's slow going. In spite of this debacle,
let's just say I'm glad to make your acquaintance." Then she frowns, like
everyone in our group, but we're frowning for a different reason than
Darleen's frowning. She says, "Frank does go on about this boy Oliver,
that's for certain." And with that, Darleen swivels her large head to look
directly at me, reminding me of the way an owl can turn it's head without
moving it's body. She mutters, "I really expected someone bigger, or more
impressive or...oh, I don't know." Taking a deep breath and trying to be
nice, I say, "Frankie showed me all those pictures of you he carries around
in......." Darleen cuts me off doing a 'stop' motion with both hands held
up in front of her, palms out. She shakes her huge head as if to imply,
'What kind of clods am I dealing with here,' and she says, "Excuse me, but
this is important for you to understand", she nods specifically at me and
Pattie. "Listen up now" Darleen is in a pompous, instructional mode now,
pointing her index finger in first Pattie's face and then my face, for
emphasis. Darleen speaks slowly so that nitwits like Pattie and me can
comprehend her point, " Frank is Frank, not Frankie. He was Frankie waaaay
back, many years ago when he was a little boy. He's nineteen years old
now, so you'll refer to him as Frank. I'm going to have to insist on
that." Frankie said, "Aw, jeez, Darleen." I open my mouth, then closed it
and look at Pattie, then Frankie. When I get my voice back I say to
Darleen, 'Excuse me, Ms Hippo, but even though you're as charming as a
snapping turtle in a porta potty, I'm afraid I can't comply with your
order. I'm going to call Frankie, Frankie!, bitch!' I say all that to
myself, in my head. What I say out loud is, "Oh, okay Darleen, sure."
Pattie has a look on her face like she's just stepped in dog shit and
Frankie just shakes his head a few times and looks down.
Darleen nods, satisfied she'd straightened everyone out, gives Pattie and
me a hard look, and says to Frankie, "I need something cold to drink right
now" as she's pulling on Frankie's arm. They drift away with Frankie
looking back at me, shrugging his shoulders, like, "Sorry 'bout that'. it
wouldn't have surprised me if she'd grabbed Frankie by his earlobe pulling
him away bent over like someone may have done to little Frankie, waaaay
back, many years ago. As I look after Frankie, Rocky whispers to me, "I'll
get the tire iron out of my truck if you'll break it over her fucking
head." I know, that sounds sinister, but hearing Rocky say it, in his
unique way, makes it funny so I laugh, probably too hard. Pattie asks,
"What'd he say that's so funny?" I go, "Ah, nothing... let's get a pitcher
of beer, Pattie. This might be a long day." Pattie says, "Well okay, now
you're talking like the wild thing I know you are." Sadly, she's serious.
She actually thinks I'm the bad boy in town and I have no idea where she
got that notion, and when it comes up it always makes me smile 'cause
nothing could be further from the truth. Pattie and I drink some beer and
she's not a bad person to hang-out with. I like that she goes along with
things, easy going. She's surprised to see me smoking though, but I
explain I only smoke on company time. She smokes a cigarette with me,
smoking it like I use to, like a girl. I resist doing the pretend cough
while saying 'cunt', like Frankie did with me. After a few beers Pattie and
I play in a boys and girls softball game. Rocky's the star of the game, he
really is quite a baseball player. We eat foods from all the different
food stations and drink a little more beer listening to the rock band in
the open-sided dance tent they set-up near the pond. It's nice meeting
some of the other blue collar workers who I don't normally see; they're
good guys, funny as hell. We have enough beers that we all dance a little
when the music is hot, me saying a silent thank you to Cristobal again for
teaching me the few dance steps I know. Pattie mingles in with the guys'
girlfriends and wives, and it's a pretty good time except I haven't seen
Frankie since our morning hug, so that's a big disappointment. I would
have gone looking for him except for Darleen, I'm half afraid she'll beat
me up. The picnic will be going on till nine o'clock tonight so most guys
are pacing themselves with the booze and I slack off some too. Around four
o'clock though, Pattie does a complete reversal, complete mood change. All
of a sudden she's getting bitchy about the heat and the fact they don't
have enough porta-potties for the girls, and she's mad because she forgets
where she left her fucking sunglasses, and on and on with the negatives. I
assume she's drunk because this isn't her normal behavior, like I said, she
goes along with things usually.
Pattie's been surprisingly fun up till the booze took over her brain, so I
give her some slack and ask if she'd like to leave, "I'd just as soon cut
out now anyway, Pattie," as I'm massaging her shoulder, trying to calm her
down. Pattie says, "What I want, you wild-thing, is to find some place
where you and me can get it ON! And I mean GET IT ON! You got that?" I
mutter, "Sure", but lets get to the car first. She wants one last cup of
beer and one last look-around for her sunglasses, which is what we do, but
getting her home is the only thing on my mind now. She gets her beer and
in the process forgets about the sunglasses and we start walking down the
brick path to get to my car, Pattie walking a little bit like a robot.
Just before we reach the parking lot Pattie bends over, drops her half a
cup of beer and throws up more vomit than I would have believed possible.
Oh my God, I've never seen a girl throw-up before. It is not a pretty
picture. A guy throwing-up isn't a pretty picture either of course, but I
just expected a girl to throw-up more daintily. Not Pattie. She's
spraying it around and I had to be very nimble to escape wearing some of
it. When she finally finishes with the throw-up, and after the dry heaves,
she collapsed on one of the park benches muttering to me she needs to
rest. She'd thrown-up the "bitchy" attitude along with everything else, so
I offer, "I'll get you some bottled water, Pattie." She moans, "Oh God
yes, some water." Walking back from the main picnic area carrying three
bottles of water for Pattie, I hear Frankie's voice, slightly slurred,
"Oliver, over here. I'm over here." Looking toward the voice I spot
Frankie in front of a big tree fumbling with the zipper on his shorts, and
go right over to him. Frankie pulls out his long, hooded penis and
stretches it out a few times, then strokes it absently while pushing at a
tuft of bright red pubic hair, which has grown out some since I barbered
them. The red pubic hair is sticking our of his zipper about where his
balls connect at the base of his dick. He pulls back on the foreskin of
his penis and the shiny pink head peeks out at the world. The pee slit
expands and a big fat pee stream, hard and steaming, splatters against the
tree causing a cascade of pee droplets to bounce off the bark; they're all
shiny and sparkly reflecting the sunlight that filters through the
trees. Frankie goes, "Ahhhhh. Relief at last." I stared at the pee hole in
his cock which is opened very wide allowing for the large beer-piss
Frankie's enjoying. His cock looks so much bigger than mine. He uses his
entire fist to hold it out while he pees. In an involuntary manner Frankie
picks-up one foot and then the other and flinches his shoulders and
shudders as the urine pours out from his bladder. "Only one thing feels
better coming out, right, Oliver?" I go, "Huh? What's that Frankie?" He
flicks his long, creamy colored cock creating a squiggly wet pee pattern on
the trunk of the tree as I groped my dick. Shortly the pee stream becomes
a small arch and then dribbles only. Frankie flicks his big dick three or
four times getting the last drops of pee to fall to the ground. "Excellent
to pee against a tree" Frankie says in a sing song way and then gives me
his big beautiful smile as he pushes his equipment back inside his pants.
I stare at where his cock was, trying to speak, but choke on some spit that
had slipped down my windpipe. Frankie chuckles and comes the three steps
to me to put his arm around my neck for a quick hug..
Finally I clear my air-way by forcing a number of rough coughs, and I'm
able to squeak out, "Where ya been all day, Frankie. I really missed you,
dude." He takes his arm from around my neck to pick up his can of Bud from
a tree stump, takes a swig and tells me Darleen's been a problem all day
and he didn't want me to have to put up with her. He adds that now she's
claiming to have a headache and she wants to leave. Darleen's parents
drove Frankie and Darleen to the picnic, her dad being one of the sales
managers for the company, and actually he'd gotten Frankie the part-time
job here last year and again this year. I tell Frankie about Pattie
needing to go home because she's sick. The quizzical look on his face
makes me think Frankie probably has had had more beers than me, but I can't
tell if he's drunk. He's using his free hand to grope his crotch trying to
get his pecker in just the right position for comfort, and in kind of a
whiny voice, he asks, "Can you drive me home, Oliver? I mean, I don't want
to go back with Darleen and her folks, I'd like to stay longer." I go, "Of
course I will," and we arrange where to meet after I drop Pattie off. When
he has his groin area all shaped-up he looks at me and gives a mischievous
grin, then pointing at his crotch, he says, "I like these short pubes now,
Oliver. I'm going to steal a scissor from that decorations table and you
can cut off the long ones that you missed. Okay, dude? It's all much more
neater, ya know?" I made a face like, "What the fuck can I say to that?"
as I'm now thinking Frankie may be kinda drunk, not that I really care one
way or the other. He smirks his cute smirk and then laughs a little at
himself, as he takes hold of the back of my neck and pulls my head over to
him and he gives me a big wet kiss on my cheek. He says, "Wow, you smell
good, Oliver," and off he goes to tell Darleen he's getting a ride home
with me. Smiling, I'm imagining how that will go over with Darleen.
There's a wet spot on my neck where he'd grabbed me, and it has to be a
drop of Frankie's pee from his finger; that thought gives me another
painfully hard boner and I give some consideration to wacking off right
here. I'm a walking boner when Frankie's around. Fortunately I come to my
senses and head back to Pattie instead of jerking off.
Handing her a bottle of water then Watch her gargles a mouthful of it and
then spit it out, then she does it again before drinking half the
bottle. After that she takes a piece of gum from her little purse and chews
it. Vomit leaves an aftertaste that most people don't care for. I know all
about that. She mumbles, "Can we go now?" I help her get comfortable in
the car; amazingly she has no vomit on her clothes. I can't say the same
for a ten square foot area on the brick path where she had her large
hurl. Not a pretty picture, as I've mentioned. She tosses the gum out the
window, and in a weak voice mutters, "You're a good guy, Oliver. You know,
for taking care of me like this." She's slurring her words, but the
sentiment is nice. I tell her, "No problem, you've been great." One minute
into the ride home Pattie falls asleep. It's a short ride as I've said,
and less than fifteen minutes later I turn the Mini into Pattie's driveway.
She's snoring softly with her chin on her chest so I hit the gas to rev the
Mini Cooper S creating that throaty engine sound along with the muffler
back-up rumble noise, and it gets Pattie stirring. "What? Where, oh,
we're home" she mumbles. I try to be helpful getting her out of the car
and up to her door. I've had a number or beers myself so I'm kind of
looking around for Myers. Feeling a little cocky, I want to ask him what
his act is with me. I plan on being the aggressor, but he's not home.
Inside the house Pattie immediately lays down on the same sofa that Myers
humiliated me on earlier. When her head hits the cushion, just about where
my pubic hair landed, she mumbles she's sorry she'd drank too much and she
hopes I don't think too badly about her. I'm magnanimous telling her not to
give it a thought, no problem. I got out of there as quickly as polite
behavior allows, anxious to get back to Frankie.
Driving back to the park I feel relieved my date's come to an end. Frankie
and I still having almost four hours of hang-out time together. Also, I'm
his ride home, but my plans do not include driving him home tonight.
Instead I want to talk him into staying over-night at my house. After all,
my parents are away so opportunity knocks. Back at the picnic the stupid
parking lot attendant, an older fellow, insists I leave my car parked in a
lot that's a long walk from the area our group is at. It makes me wonder,
'Why oh why is the world full of assholes? Give them a tiny bit of
authority and they have to be pricks about it.' Oh well, I jog to where
Frankie and I we're suppose to meet, but no Frankie. It's a big park so I
grab a draft beer and stroll around looking for him. More then a half hour
later I spot his red hair bobbing around. Frankie's playing shortstop in a
soft ball game. Relieved to have finally found him, I happily sit down in
the first row of the little bleacher section to watch the game. Naturally I
watch mostly Frankie. Perspiration dripping off his cute nose, his knees
bent slightly as he leans forward, ready for the ball to be hit his
way. Frankie repeatedly hits the pocket of his baseball glove with his
right fist, staring in at the batter. A hard hit grounder to his left, but
Frankie fields the ball cleanly and flips to the second baseman to start a
double play that ends the inning. "Nice play, Frankie", I yell. Frankie's
so smooth and he so cool I'm feeling really hot for him. He doesn't appear
to hear me yell at him though as he goes right over to the little second
baseman for a high five and then a hug, the same kind of hug he normally
gives me. The little second baseman hugs Frankie back so hard his feet
leave the ground. I stare at the second baseman as he jogs off the diamond
next to, and step by step, with Frankie. Oh yeah, it's the little sixteen
year old part time mailroom kid, Pete.
Damn, I ogled that kid every time I see him pushing the mail cart
around. The major thing about Pete is his great ass; the most perfect boy
butt I've ever seen. The first time I saw his ass I immediately sprung a
boner. Two firm half melons next to each other with lift; that's what his
butt cheeks remind me of. They're prominently displayed today in Pete's
nylon basketball shorts. The flimsy nylon material outlining both cheeks
and his crack perfectly. What a sight with his shorts hanging below his
knees. Pete look like a little kid with the hottest ass ever. He's further
blessed with perfectly proportioned legs too, with just the right
boy-definition in them. Not muscles, just shaped perfectly without any leg
hair, just blond peach fuzz. The rest of Pete is thin, tight, and normal.
His head's covered with long, very curly light brown hair that forms a mop
starting on top of his head and reached almost to his shoulders.
Small-featured cute face and a very shy personality. If you say, 'Hi,
Pete,' he blushes. Off the baseball diamond, Frankie has his hand on Pete's
shoulder walking him into the shade. When they're under a tree Frankie
holds the back of Pete's neck with one hand and pushed Pete's hair off his
forehead with the other while putting his face close to Pete's, looking for
something. Pete stands very straight and still, like a good boy would. His
face is very red and his his arms hang straight down at his sides. If
Frankie got his face any closer to Pete's he could lick him. Frankie says
something, takes out a crumpled paper towel from his side pocket and dabs
it at the corner of Pete's eye. Pete blinks and nods his head that all's
well. An eyelash? Frankie gives Pete another warm hug and tussled his
long curly hair. I think, 'Someone needs a hard smack across the back of
his redheaded head.' as a feeling of jealousy creeps in on me again. With
Frankie's arm over Pete's shoulders they walk back toward the baseball
field, Frankie's talking in his excited way and Pete's looking at him and
soaking in ever word. I yell, "You're up at bat, Pete." And, he is too.
Pete looks up, gets even redder in the face and trots to the on-deck circle
swinging a bat. Frankie smiles his wonderful smile at me and comes right
over to give me a hug around my neck, "Where the fuck were you, dude. I
waited at our spot. You okay, Oliver?" He seems to have sobered-up
slightly. His face is sweaty and as our cheeks slide against one another I
think, 'Even Frankie's sweat smells good,' and with the palm of my hand I
take a swipe up his forehead and into his red hair which is standing
straight up from his scalp and Frankie smiles into my eyes. Oh my God, I
got it bad for Frankie. "Everything okay, Oliver?" he asks again, and I
tell him I couldn't be better and then compliment him on his double-play.
Pete strikes out for the final out of the game and Frankie's team loses, 8
to 7. The weather's hot so Pete, Frankie, and me go for cold drinks, two
of us get beers and a coke for the youngster. As we're walking along I ask
Pete, "How's it going?" and he blushes, mumbling, "Okay, Oliver, how 'bout
you." What the fuck, it's okay with me if he hangs with us for a bit.
Pete's like gum on Frankie's shoe anyway. Where Frankie goes, Pete follows
closely; Pete and repeat. Frankie's a big talker and Pete never says
anything so it's almost like he isn't here. Plus, there's the extra
benefit of Pete being nice to look at; that's a bonus. I stare at his ass
a lot. We have no plans, just walk around and goof off. Later, Pete and I
are sitting on a wall in the shade of a huge tree just chilling out while
Frankie's off getting something to eat. For lack of anything better to say,
I ask Pete if he isn't hot with all that hair, and he goes, "Nah, I don't
even notice it, Oliver". He did a cute little snicker and told me that
every time Frankie sees him at work he ruffles Pete's hair for good luck,
so that's reason enough for him not getting it cut. Pete thinks Frankie's
head rubs are cool. He says, "Do you want to feel my hair for good luck,
Oliver?" I reached over and take a big fistful of it and it reminds me of
the density of Alexander's hair, but Pete's is silky and unbelievably soft
as I pull my hand away dragging a big bunch of long, curly hair with it.
The fine hairs slip easily through my fingers.To feel his hair again, I put
my hand back into Pete's mop of hair and use my fingers to massage his
scalp; his eyes look down at his feet, as he leans his head into my hand.
I take a third fistful of hair and then put the palm of my hand right on
the crown of Pete's head and he moves his head back and forth a little
against my hand, while leaning into it some more.
Pete's eyes are fluttering a little and the tip of his pink tongue is just
visible between his smallish white teeth. He let's out a long sigh and
noticeably moves closer to me so I bend my head down to Pete's so I can get
a whiff and feel the heat coming off him. He smells like a boy and he's
close enough to me that I easily manage to have both hands on his head in
his hair. Massaging his scalp and playing with his hair created a very
intimate feeling somehow, especially since Pete is such a willing
participant. I begin breathing in short burst with Pete's doing the same.
He edges even closer to me, almost touching and I want to bury my face in
his hair like I did in Alexander's. Letting my mind wander, I'm wondering
how Pete and me got so hot so quickly; it's so unexpected, but very yummy.
Needless to say, I have a wicked hard boner so I'm rubbing my crotch,
looking down at Pete's crotch; his nylon shorts form a tall tent in his
lap. Nylon outlines everything. Pete sees where I'm looking and he put
his hands in his pockets and bunches up the material in his lap to try
hiding his boner. When he looks over at me he has a mysterious look in his
eyes which seems to hypnotize me as I stare into his big eyes. It seems
weirdly quiet, like we're in a sound chamber or something. Neither Pete
nor I say anything; maybe we couldn't have spoken if we'd tried.
The birds in the trees make their soft tweeting sounds and a breeze
ruffled the leaves quietly. We're away from the crowds so the noise from
the picnic is a distant murmur. It's unreal and my boner throbs as I
continue to lazily play with Pete's hair, and then I jump six inches up off
the wall when, out of no where, Frankie shouts, "You two having fun?" It
scares the hell out of Pete too, like we got caught doing something we
shouldn't be doing.
Frankie enjoyed that, he's laughing because he'd made us jump. Ignoring
the very real possibility that Pete and I might have shit our jockey
shorts, Frankie says, "I got ice pops for my best bud, Oliver, and the best
mailroom boy ever; that's you, Pete." I'm worried Pete's face will burst
into flames he's blushing so hard as he jerks his body away from me, both
his hands still in his pockets. I glance at Frankie who's now staring at
me with a questioning smirk on his face. I make a face back at him and
shrug my shoulders, saying, "For good luck, ya know." We both shake our
heads then, chuckle. What are ya gonna do, Pete's irresistible. The three
of us hang-out just goofing-off and exploring the edges of the park. The
only consideration we have is to make sure we're not to be too far away
from the picnic so we can get our beer refills, and get more to eat. Other
than that we don't have a care. Pete mostly just listens to Frankie and me
bantering back and forth telling stories about Rocky or about stuff we'd
done on the job for laughs. After a while, Pete switches over to beer too
and he's giddy after just one. It doesn't take Frankie too long to get us
all into an ass grabbing frame of mind. Just like on the loading dock we
all try to goose the other guy at the worst possible second, like when
someone's just taken a swallow of beer or just bitten into a hotdog, or
just started taking a piss; anything that might cause an accident or
mishaps so the other two guys can laugh their respective asses off about
it. Pete was bashful at first, but the beer helped him get into the swing
of things. We're acting real childish and with the help of the beers
everything is hilariously funny. We had pee spots on the front of our
shorts from laughing so hard. Even when we knew it was stupid we couldn't
help but laugh till we lost our breath. It's the mood we're in, and the
beer. It's all about cigarettes and beer and eating too much food and
acting like fools. None of us are use to drinking beers all afternoon, but
we have the best time doing it just the same.
Later in the day, on the outskirts of the park, we come upon three porta
potties. Frankie goes, "Thank God, porta-potties! I was just about to join
the bears and shit in the woods." He'd been complaining that he had to
take a crap for the last half hour. Frankie checks out the end toilet and
sticks his head back out to say, "This one ain't too bad. If you two
derelicts try to screw around with me while I'd taking care of business in
here, you'll both be dead before night fall". As soon as he locks the door
Pete and I try to think of someway to fuck with Frankie while he's going
potty, but our brains are fried. We can't come up with anything
funny. Pete's standing with his back to me pulling the tab on a new can of
beer so I take the opportunity to grab a big handful of his perfect butt.
"Gotcha," I say as the beer can goes flying. Pete goes, "Ahhh, fuck!" but,
at the same time, he's reaching blindly behind him and he gets a handful of
my nuts in a lucky grab. "I gotcha too", he says as he rolls by nuts
between his fingers, not squeezing too hard yet. I go, "Whoaaa there,
youngster," and with my other hand I reach around in front of him and get a
great hold on his cock and at least one of his nuts. "Gotcha again, and
better this time!" I yell, and then I do squeeze his one nut harder than I
meant to. Pete immediately lets go of my nuts, saying, "You win, you win",
but instead of letting go of his cock I stroked it a few times and it firms
up right away. Pete's going, "Ahhh, Ohhhh, Ahhh". The flimsy nylon
material of Pete's over-sized basketball shorts provides plenty of
looseness allowing me to make long strokes on his cock, and it is a
surprisingly long cock too. His cock becomes a boner with the third stroke
and he pushes his back into my body and goes up on his toes moaning. Then,
in a husky voice, he mutters, "Do it faster, Oliver." I stroke his boner
tighter and faster; damn, he has a long cock! The back of Pete's head is
up against my collar bone and I lean my head down so that my nose is in
that long curly hair of his. The heat and aroma from this young teen's body
overwhelms my senses making me gulp and cough as I try to breathe. My
boner's poking just above his butt with Pete's beautiful ass leaning
against my thighs, just below my balls. I think, 'Wish he were a little
taller'. In less than a minute, Pete lets out a long groan humping his
hips and the fist I'm using to stroke his boner is wet, but I'm worried the
beers caused Pete to pee himself. There's too much wetness for it to be
cum. Letting go of his boner I push my hand against his belly, and then
inside the elastic of his shorts and jockey underwear to grab hold of his
bare cock; it's covered in cum alright, way too creamy to be pee.
Pete moans with gagging sounds in his throat as he shoots a few more spurts
of cum with me pulling on his naked boner and holding him against me
tightly with my grip around his belly; both his hands clasping my wrist.
His cock is longer than mine, about as long as Frankie's but maybe fatter.
I let go of his cock and feel his big balls and then I feel around his
pubic area noticing his pubes have been cut-off; they're even shorter than
I'd cut Frankie's. I wonder why, as I rub all around there; his pubes are
so short they're bristly. Hmmmm, coincidence? Pete lets out a long sigh
and rubs the back of his head against my shoulder some more. Both his
hands are now putting pressure on the back of my hand that's in his
pants. His body is as stiff as his cock as Pete continues to press up
against me, feeling good. The only thing stiff on me is my boner. I kiss
the side of Pete's forehead with a long wet one and he doesn't move a
muscle until I pull my lips away. Right after the kiss Pete whispers, "Oh
my God, I'm so embarrassed about cuming in my pants, Oliver". I feel kind
of bad for the kid, but can't think what to say. He slowly pulls my hand
out of his pants and turns to look at me with his blushing, cute, red face
as he holds my cummy hand with both of his, and says, "Promise you won't
tell anyone. Please, promise!" I say, "Sure, I promise" and Pete gives me
a sweet, shy smile then lifts my hand to his mouth and licks his cum off my
fingers and I almost shoot off in my pants. When he's licked my fingers
clean he smiles at me again and mouths, "You promised". Then, looking
around and seeing it's getting late he gets a worried look on his face and
checks his wristwatch, then tells me he needs to leave. He asks me to say
goodbye to Frankie for him; he's already late meeting up with his cousin
for his ride home, and abruptly runs off. As he runs, what else, he pulls
out his T-shirt to cover the large cum spot on the front of those nylon
shorts. I stare after him wondering, "How did what happened, happen?" My
boner's leaking again and this time I have no choice, I go right in the
porta-potty furthest from Frankies' and pull out my boner to stroke it.
Very soon out shoots another fabulous load of cum, this one splashing up
against the plastic wall of the smelly porta-potty as I groan with my eyes
tightly closed. Ohhh, what a great feeling, even in this outdoor toilet.
Now that my horniness is temporarily taken care of my brain starts up again
and I think, 'Damn, I should have offered to drive Pete home, or even
better, maybe a sleep-over...." too late now.
Frankie bangs on the locked door of my porta-potty, yelling, "Are both of
you perverts in there?" He's laughing as he asks the question. I zip up
and open the door, "Quick, Frankie, help me! Pete fell down the hole of
the shitter." Frankie gets a real worried look on his face and takes a
step towards the door of my porta-potty, but then stop suddenly and gives
me the double barreled middle finger salute. "Sit on one of these and
rotate." Frankie's smiling big-time telling me I got him, but for just a
second there. Then he ask where's Pete and I tell him only the part about
Pete looking at his watch and running off. Frankie and I meander back to
our picnic area, get one last cheeseburger to share and we're barely able
to finish it. We've both been eating everything in sight all day. After a
little discussion Frankie agrees that staying at my place is the smart
thing to do. I've had too many beers to make the long round trip to
Frankie's and back. We figure what the hell, a couple beers for the road
and we fish two cans of beer apiece out of a big tub of icy water and head
for my car. Frankie goes, "This day started out sucking, but in the end
this was the best picnic I've ever been to". I agreed it was awesome and we
laughed about the mailroom boy, Pete, and what a riot it was seeing him get
tipsy from the beers. I thought to myself, 'Yeah, the beers are part of the
explanation, but not all of it. Pete is the mystery boy. Maybe I'll ask
Frankie about mystery boy later'. Frankie lights the last cigarette we
have between us and we share it on our way to the car. Lots of spit on the
filter each time we pass it and we don't even bother to laugh because I
think we're all laughed out.
The ride home is a quick one; we're quiet going inside my house and turning
on some lights; both feeling a little awkward being alone together here.
Frankie calls his folks so they wouldn't worry about him and then I suggest
we finish off the beers on the back porch. Frankie follows me into the
kitchen, where I pick-up my little CD player, and out to the porch we go.
I play the latest Counting Crows CD, we each grab a deck chair and sit with
our feet up on the porch railing sipping our beer looking at the vastness
of the night sky with a full moon providing us the only light we have on
the porch. Neither of us says anything, we're both more than a little
drunk and tired too. It's a little after nine o'clock as we gaze at fifty
million stars right above us and not a single shooting one, which is really
too bad because seeing one would have been cool. When the Cd comes to a
song I like, I sing along glancing over at Frankie when finished singing,
and can just make out an astonished expression on his face in the
darkness. He says, "Holy shit, Oliver! You sing better than the guy on the
CD." I'm flattered and kinda proud I'd been able to impress Frankie. He's
wicked impressed and to show off I sing a part of the song by myself and he
gets out of his chair and gives me a big hug. Wow, what a great day! Just
to start a conversation, I tell Frankie about how Tyler and me began
singing together as young kids and then I tell him what a friend I had in
Tyler, and then because I'd had too much to drink, I can't stop talking. I
tell Frankie how Tyler died and how I found his dead body and how I though
it was my fault, and how I'd gone into a catatonic state, and how my
brother helped pull me out of it. I told him about me not speaking for
months and then about my stuttering and how bad it use to be in my life.
The night got very dark as we sipped our beers with me talking non-stop in
between sips. I tell him about Tyler's family hating me and about my
family moving from our old neighborhood because I was getting in fights all
the time, and about me missing an entire year of school, about how I was so
lonely, but couldn't make friends and how I was called a geek and a
brainiac-weirdo. I couldn't stop telling him stuff. Looking at the floor,
in a quiet voice, I tell Frankie I'm was gay and that I'd known I was gay
when I was eleven or twelve. I tell him I've never had a gay experience
until recently when I had one with Cristobal and then I tell him about
Alexander and me and that I thought I was in love with Cristobal and then
Alexander too, adding, "But now I know I wasn't in love with them, Frankie.
Now I know what love really feels like. I know that love isn't always nice
and sweet and perfect too. I'm pretty sure that love can hurt, and do you
know how I know that?" I look at him, he's staring at me with wide opened
eyes as he mumbles, "No, Oliver, how do you know?" I shrug and clearly say,
It's because I'm in love with you Frankie, that's how I know I wasn't in
love before. I never loved them like I love you. And, loving you don't
look like it's going to work out real good for me; looks like I'm in for
some serious hurting, to tell ya the truth."
Frankie is taking in every word and in the moonlight I see tears in his
eyes and I know he feels my pain and my heartache and that's when I
realized I'd reverted to one of my old habits, crying. My tears were
dripped off my chin and soaking the top part of my dirty T-shirt. Finally
done my true confession I end with, "I know our spit swapping and hugging
and all is just your way of having a laugh by acting outrageous, but for me
it was a sexy gay turn-on and I apologize for taking advantage of you,
Frankie. For misrepresenting myself, I mean. I'm sorry and I hope we can
still be friends." It's almost ten o'clock by now and even with the stars
out, the moon's covered by a cloud now so it's quite dark out here making
it hard for me to make out the expression on Frankie's face even though
he's sitting three feet away. We're both quiet, and the silence in my ears
is like thunder and my tears feel like rain. In about a minute, although it
seemed much longer, Frankie mumbles, "I don't know what to say. I know I
should say something, but I'm speechless, Oliver. I mean, of course, I'm
so very sorry for the troubles in your life. I have to say I, um, well, I
guess you've been very brave though; very brave to have made it through all
those hard times." He gets up again and comes over to put his hand on my
shoulder and in a very kind way says, "Please stop crying, Oliver. It's
okay. Really, it is. I think it took a lot of courage for you to tell me
about you know, about being gay and all. And, what do you mean you hope we
can still be friends. Of course we can, we're still best buds, you and
me." He pats my shoulder and rubs the back of my head and goes on to say,
"I'm so sorry, Oliver. I mean, I'm happy we're going to be best friends,
but I'm sorry to disappoint you about the other thing; there isn't any way
I can be your gay boyfriend. Please don't feel bad and don't get mad, but
I promised I'd marry Darleen. She isn't really like she was at the picnic
all the time, that's not her true self, it's just that she gets flustered
around people she doesn't know."
Frankie pulls his deck chair over right in front of mine and begins telling
me about him and Darleen, our knees touching the whole time. In the
background The Fray are now on the CD player and my favorite Fray song has
just started, "How To Save A Life". With the haunting sounds of that song
in the background Frankie tell me about Darleen and him. The condensed
version goes like this: His family moved here from Oklahoma during the
summer he turned thirteen. The first day here he met this chubby girl who
lives next door. She was very friendly and funny too. She said she liked
his accent although Frankie was unaware that he'd had one. She treated
Frankie like he was special and like she, Darleen, was hardly good enough
to be his friend. Frankie, as far as Darleen was concerned, was a rock
star. Darleen was the president of Frankie's fan club, his servant, his
gofer. He'd never thought of himself as being special, but he liked the
fact that Darleen did. Frankie and Darleen were at each others house for
homework every night, they hooked-up on weekends and were always included
in each other's plans. Darleen was constantly saying 'thank you' to
Frankie for being her friend. One Saturday in October, while riding his new
bike, a trash truck ran into Frankie. One hip and both his legs were
broken. He had to have three operations and then he was put in a plaster
cast from his armpits to his toes There were, of course, accommodations for
his bowel movements and peeing, but he needed help with both. Darleen was
there every day with Frankie, and his family came to depend on her a
lot. Naturally it was embarrassing and awkward to have a girl cleaning him
up after toilet matters and sponge bathing of private parts and things of
that nature, but Darleen did it all. She read to him and assisted his
tutor in keeping him current in his school work.
During this six month process the dynamics in their relationship changed.
Darleen adopted the role of deciding what's best for Frankie. He wasn't in
much of a position to argue and it just became the natural order of things
even when Frankie no longer was in the cast. Then it became whatever
Darleen said; she was the last word on the matter. He had months of
rehabilitation to go through and Darleen tightened her hold on him in
various ways. During their conversations Darleen manipulated Frankie's
emotions by claiming she knew that Frankie would dump her as soon as he was
well because she wasn't good enough for someone as cute as Frankie. She
was just a chubby girl with a big nose so she understood and told Frankie
it was okay, she'd have no hard feelings when he dumped her. Of course
this got Frankie to pledge his loyal friendship and in time it just became
an established fact that Frankie and Darleen were boyfriend and girlfriend.
When he was fully recovered their relationship continued in the established
manner, they were a couple and Darleen ran the show. Although Frankie
hadn't given a thought to a possible next step for his and Darleen's
relationship, Darleen had. One day in twelfth grade study hall Darleen
leaned over to Frankie and informed him that they were in love. It was
news to Frankie, but after a while he believed it too. They pledged
themselves to each other and pledged to save their virginity for their
wedding night.
As I listened to him tell his story it seems obvious Frankie has never been
in love with her. She has been manipulating his emotions for years,
playing on his sympathies to get her way. She wangled a promise out of
Frankie that they'd be married after college and now Frankie doesn't want
to break his word. He wrapped up his story by saying, "I just can't back
out on Darleen after all these years. It would ruin her life, and I don't
want to ruin her life after all the things she's done for me." I didn't
want to say what I was thinking, which is, 'You don't seem mind ruining his
own life, Frankie'. I recognized that this was a delicate situation, but I
didn't have any idea what to do about it. Instead, I go, "We're still
friends though, you and me, right?" and Frankie is emphatic, "Absolutely."
Thinking to myself, 'I guess that's going to have to be good enough for the
moment'. Then, with a heavy heart, I suggest we should call it a night and
ask Frankie if he wants to sleep in my bed or in my sleeping bag. He said
he'd sleep with me, he wasn't afraid of me just because he now knows I'm
gay. We clean-up some in the bathroom before bed and since I didn't have an
extra tooth brush I just handed mine to Frankie when I was done with
it. We'd swapped enought spit in the past that we didn't give a second
thought to using the same toothbrush. While he's brushing his teeth I get
the urge for a shower so undress and hop in the shower telling Frankie I'll
be quick. He brushes his teeth, gets undressed and comes right in the
shower with me.
His body is skinny like mine, but there are no bones showing or anything
like that; he has a nice, tight, smooth body. Healthy looking skin, very
light skin tone except where his skin is lightly tan from the summer sun.
His bright red pubes add a nice splash of color at the middle of him and
the short bright red hair on his head is way cool. A few red hairs under
his arms, but other than that there's just some almost invisible fine blond
hairs on his arms and legs. Then, there's his extraordinary penis with the
large hairless balls hanging just below it. He's so close to perfection my
eyes began to sting with the desire I have for him. In his left hand
Frankie's holding the little scissors from the bathroom jar of utility
items. And, as if it's the most normal thing in the world, he asks, "How
about getting those pubes you missed, Oliver." I was certainly willing to
go alone with him; lets see what develops. So I take the scissors, get on
my knees, with water pouring down on me, and pull at Frankie's pubes
cutting off the longer ones. There aren't a lot of longer pubes to cut and
it doesn't take long. The fine red hairs I cut circle at our feet and then
slide down the drain, gone forever. I make a project of rubbing his pube
patch a few extra times even though I know I've barbered all of them by
now. Opening the shower door, I flip the scissors over onto the counter as
Frankie is rubbing all around his crotch and then plays with his big cock a
little. Then, continuing to pretend that cutting your bud's pubes is a
normal endeavor, requiring no further discussion, I mention how surprised l
am that Frankie's sharing a shower with me. He says that I must be
kidding, "Oliver, we've all taken showers with guys all through high school
gym classes. This is no big deal. Jeez!" That explanation is good enough
for me although I know this isn't the same thing as showering with a lot of
guys after gym, not the same thing at all. Without a word Frankie
surprises me again by squirting shampoo on my head and shampooing my hair
for me. I think, 'We didn't do this in gym class either'.
Frankie was very conscientious about the shampooing. His fingers massaging
my scalp create thick shampoo suds that slowly drool down my face as I keep
my eyes and mouth closed tightly standing up straight for him, remembered
the way Pete stood while Frankie was getting that eyelash; I try to do it
the same way. Frankie gave my hair the most thorough shampoo it's ever
had, his wet slippery body sliding against mine and I pray my dick will
behave. After five luxurious minutes Frankie directs my head right under
the shower nozzle and rinses my hair running his fingers through it until
all the shampoo bubbles are gone. He says, "Now me, Oliver," and I start
doing Frankie's shampoo the same way he'd just done mine . Now my boner
will not be denied and it becomes hard as stone bobbing between us feeling
tingly and fine. I massaged Frankie's closely clipped scalp all around the
sides and the back of his perfectly shaped head. The feel of his head and
the closely shorn scalp of his, is so intimate I'm soon blowing out short
pants of breath. Then, without planning to, I pulled his forehead against
mine and shampooed the short red hairs on top of his head with my right
hand while using my left to cup the back of his head keeping his forehead
against mine. Frankie begins moving his head from side to side so that
we're rubbing our noses together. Shortly this leads to our lips meeting
and we replace the nose rubbing with slow, lingering kisses and then we
both wrapped our arms around the other and do a slow dance to music we hear
only in our heads; slow music. The shower water rinsing the shampoo from
Frankie's head and it slide down both our faces and a little gets on our
lips and our kisses taste like shampoo for a bit.
Frankie's big cock has quickly grown into a very big boner and it's right
next to mine, between our bellies. His boner reaches all the way up to my
belly button, three inches above the head of my boner. We're sucking each
others neck as the warm shower water pours over us. When I know I"m about
ready to cum I whisper it in Frankie's ear, "I'm going to cum, Frankie,"
and he reaches down to jerk my cock saying, "Let's help each other,
Oliver". So, he strokes my boner and using my whole fist, I stroke that
long fat cock of his. Frankie only strokes my boner five times before I
see stars and climax with a force that scares me, and then three more
pretty good spurts follow right after that first explosion. While I'm
cuming I hold onto Frankie's cock like one holds onto a pole in a swaying
trolley car. It helps me stay on my feet. After a bit I recover enough to
jerk Frankie off and his cum shoots up all over my chest as he makes quiet
grunting sounds while biting and licking my ear. Afterward we both sit on
the floor of the shower stall, exhausted, staring at each other with the
water continuing to flow over us. Shortly Frankie's breathing is under
control and he says, "Holy shit, Oliver. That was random, huh? I sure hope
you don't get the wrong idea about this." He follows it up with a big,
beautiful smile and I swear I'm lost again. I don't know what the fuck it
all means, I truly didn't have a clue, but I sure enjoyed it.
We stand and began washing each other with soapy hands, concentrating,
although not exclusively, on the crotch and ass areas until the water
begins to lose it's warmth. Thoroughly rinsed off in almost cool water we
get out of the shower and help each other dry-off using two big fluffy
towels. Are we ever clean. And, sexually satisfied too, for the moment
anyway. While rubbing that big towel all over Frankie I have a quizzical
look on my face catching Frankie's eye every chance I get hoping he'd
clarify what our mutual jerk-off means to him, or means for us, if
anything. Frankie maintains a playful, happy face and I have to think he's
teasing me something awful. But, about what? That is the question. We
both take a long beer piss, sharing the toilet bowl, and then I grab two
pairs of boxer shorts for us to put on. We pad barefoot into the kitchen
for something other than beer to drink and settled on big glasses of orange
juice. We don't have much to say, but I think we're feeling comfortable
with each other; I sure feel comfortable. We sit quietly and listened to
The Fray on my CD player as it replays for the third time. Finally Frankie
suggest we both take three Tylenol to help with the hangover that's sure to
greet us in the morning, and then head off to bed. I have a double bed so
there is certainly room for two. My bedroom is air conditioned very cool,
so we scramble under the covers. Frankie mutters, "It's your bed, Oliver,
so you tell me how you like to sleep, you know, what position you like.
Just pretend I'm not here and I'll work out a space of my own that won't
bother you." I go, "Oh yeah, okay, let's see, you should face me. Usually
I sleep best like this" and I scoot over right in front of him and squeezed
my right arm under his neck pulling his chest against mine on our sides,
and I wrapped my other arm over his back to get him as tight up against me
as possible. Then I insinuated my foot, followed by my leg, in between
Frankie's legs. Our noses touch for a second and then I move the side of
my face against the side of his, and in a low voice whisper right into his
ear, "How's this? Comfy?" Frankie whispers back at me, "Perfect. Good
night, Oliver."
It wasn't even eleven o'clock, but we'd had a very active day and too many
beers, so we drift off to sleep with Frankie in my arms. A little later,
in my dream, I'm having trouble getting air into my lungs. This causes me
to open my eyes and see that Frankie and I have scrambled about in our
sleep and my nose and mouth are now pressed against the side of his neck
partially blocking my breathing. He smells so natural and so sexy I moved
my nose back and forth against his neck a half dozen times; mmmmmmm good.
My arm is still under Frankie's neck so I gently pull his sleeping head
over and kiss his forehead lightly because I can't help myself. He's so
special to me. I rub my nose in his short red hair and kiss the top of his
head. Teary eyed I wondered how I can love someone as much as I love
Frankie, it's so close to being painful, yet so beautiful at the same time,
but it hurts. Frankie has a sleepy voice when he mumbles, "Is it morning
already, Oliver?" I tell him it's not even one o'clock, and, "I had a
dream that I was hugging my boyfriend's neck too tighly and that woke me up
". When I said that I'm hugging Frankie around his neck, as he muttered,
"I can't be your boyfriend. I told you that. If I could, I would, but I
can't". I snap back at him, "I said it was a dream, didn't I ?" He
obviously detected the little bit of anger in my voice, and he goes, "Oh,
I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me, Oliver." Oh man, I'm being a jackass
again. I kiss his lips and mumble, "I love you so much, Frankie". The moon
light shines through the window barely lighting his face as he opens his
eyes wide for a second and then a look in his eyes says something to me and
his lips opened a little and we French kiss until we're both were wearing
hard boners again.
Occasionally I'll read some gay stories on line and I stumbled onto this
very kewl, excellent young writer who wrote about him and his boyfriend
putting their boners inside one or the other's boxers. I thought this
would be cool to do so I reach down and fish out my boner and stick it in
Frankie's fly opening, then I push my nuts in there too. Oh my God does it
ever feel fabulous to have my boner rubbing against his extra large boner
with both of them right there inside Frankie's underpants. Laying on
Frankie's belly, my nuts rest comfortably on Frankie's short and silky
bright red pubic hairs. This unique experience for my boner causes it to
immediately grow a half an inch longer as pre cum drools from my pee slit
while I moan into Frankie's mouth. We hump against each other, with Frankie
saying, "This is so hot, Oliver. This is so hot! Jesus..." He sucks my
top lip and then licks over the front of my teeth four or five times, and
we're getting a bit over-stimulated. I can feel pre cum from Frankie's
cock wetting my cock and I want to taste it. I whisper, "Frankie, let me
show you something I recently learned," and slowly pull my face away from
Frankie's and lick down his neck and across his chest to his nipple, which
is already hard, so I suck on it with lots of saliva. My cock and balls
pulls out of Frankie's boxers and he goes, "Ohhh". I go, "Oh yeah, let's
get these off" and I pull both our boxers off and tossed them on the floor.
Frankie says, "This feels good." I go, "Just wait, it get's better," and I
finish sucking both his nipples, then lick a spit trail down his chest and
stomach to his belly button and fill that with spit and twirl my tongue
there till he's squirming and running his fingers through my hair. Lots of
licking and kissing on his lower belly causes Frankie to shudder and shiver
and moan. I rub my nose in his pubes and then licked all through them till
they're wet with spit. Holding his boner and moving it this way and that
way to allow me to lick all over his pubes and then finally down the sides
of his nut sack.
I'm so hard myself with tingling and buzzing at the head of my boner plus
those same great sensations in the debths of my nuts. I imagined my cum
churning around in there getting ready for the run of it's life. Erotic,
indescribable feelings of pleasure cover my body. I stroke my own boner as
I'm stroking Frankie's and both boners are wet with pre cum so my fist
slides easily up and down both shafts. The smell of Frankie down around
his nuts is such a sexy turn-on I lap under his balls and licked close to
his hole. Frankie's knees are in the air now, forming a tent with the
sheets, and when he feels me licking close to his hole he spread his legs
open to allow me full access to all parts of him. With Frankie laying
exposed like this, I let go of his cock and lift his nuts so and lap under
them soaking them with spit, and then again a wet lick within an inch of
Frankie's hole. He groans and scrunches his bum toward me totally exposing
his anus rosebud and I give a full, wet, warm slow deliberate lick right
over his hairless clean hole and then do it again even slower. I feel like
I'm going to shoot off myself as Frankie moans, "Ohhh, God," and after
waiting a second to see if my nuts are going to explode, I lick up and all
around his balls and then from the base of his boner I do a sloppy wet lick
up to his wide cock head, suck on the head swallowing the precum, and then
do a sloppy wet lick down the other side of his long fat cock; it's as hard
a cock as I've ever felt, including mine. He humps his hips involuntarily
while moaning and groaning. Sucking on the head of his boner I pull the
covers off my head, forcing my eyes to look upward as much as possible and
I can see Frankie's face in the moonlight; his eyes and mouth are closed
tightly and he's rolling his head slightly from side to side on the pillow.
I push as much of Frankie's boner in my mouth as I can manage and suck and
tongue it while stoking the part that I can't get in my mouth and in thirty
seconds he arched his back and blows his load in my mouth. It drools out
both sides and slides down the inside and the outside of my throat.
Letting out a long hissing noise between my teeth, I hump my hips twice and
climax on Frankie's right thigh. We both have three follow-up spurts. All
kinds of bright colors flash behind my eyes and my ears stop up. No
matter, I still swallowed as much of Frankie's cum as I can. My boner
going down, but I still stroke it because what an absolutely awesome
climax. My best ever, Frankie's cum tastes slightly like beer, or maybe
that's just my imagination.
Frankie does a few more lazy humps with his hips and then collapsed back on
the mattress and lets go of the fistful of my hair that he's been pulling
on. We're both breathing hard again and after two minutes Frankie, in a
serious manner asks, "Jeez, what exactly do you call that, Oliver?"
Frankie follows his rhetorical question with a chuckle. I swear I never
know what reaction to expect from him. Trying to be funny I answered, "I'm
thinking of calling it a blow-job." Frankie says, "I can't imagine why.
You didn't do any blowing that I could detect." I scampered around so I'm
sharing the pillow with Frankie and can look right at him. He has his
normal big friendly smile going and he's acting as happy as can be. I hug
him and he hugs back and then he gives me a long kiss first on the side of
my forehead and then on my lips. I feel my cum, the cum that I'd shot on
Frankie's leg, smearing off his leg onto mine as we get tangled-up together
again. I love the feel of his naked body against mine. He says, "Oh, by
the way, Oliver, would you please do me a favor" I go, "If I can, I will,
Frankie." And in the same manner that you might ask someone to set the
alarm for nine o'clock in the morning, he says, "Please, don't let me fall
in love with you. Okay?" and then he covers my lips with the palm of his
hand and goes, "Shhhhh, Oliver. Let's get back to sleep." I lay there in
his arms, thinking, 'Too late, Frankie. We're two skinny nineteen year old
boys, heading back to sleep, already in love with each other'.
to be continued...
Next...Oliver's Freshman Year
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